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noctuaas · 3 years

Text

AS YOU WISH

synopsis; in this tale of romance, revenge, and treason, you, a beautiful commoner, are set to become the princess of aobajousai. will your one true love be able to save you in time?

pairing; kuroo tetsurou x reader

content; princess bride au (heavily based on both the movie and novel), medieval au, torture, mild violence, drama, fantasy/adventure, murder, minor character death, fem!reader

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02 ; THE GROOM

PRINCE OIKAWA WAS A MAN of great renown. There wasn’t a person in Aobajohsai that couldn’t recognize him in one swift glance; he walked through the kingdom with a swing in his dainty hips, which contrasted his mighty barrel thighs and broad, sinewy shoulders. His steps were surprisingly soft, and if he wanted to become a ballet dancer, he would probably find surprising success. But Oikawa didn’t want to be a ballet dancer. He wasn’t even in much of a rush to be king (considering he practically ran the kingdom anyway, what with his mother and father being too old and senile to do it themselves). Everything took second place in his affections, save for one thing.

Tracking was his love.

He made it a habit to never let more than a few days go by without tracking something down or training his hounds. It started when he was a young boy, with his parents’ two Irish Wolfhounds—off he would go with them, chasing rabbits through fields to add the stew that the palace cook was making for supper. Before long, he started studying other tracking sports, from fox hunting to coonhunting to even scenting out other humans, and became a talented tracker in each field. Once he was determined, once he focused on a target, the Prince was relentless.

For a while, Prince Oikawa traveled the world, acquiring hounds from the most prestigious lineages and persuading masterful hunters to mentor him. As his skill increased, he took to training and breeding his own dogs, creating Aoban pedigrees that had a name in and of themselves. Unfortunately, travelling consumed time, and the time away from Aobajohsai became increasingly worrying. Oikawa’s father was growing old, and as the only male heir to the throne, it eventually became time for the Prince to return home.

Instead, he took to roaming the Aoban countryside on weekends, accompanied by Count Iwaizumi on the horses he trained. (The Count always was a better horseman than the Prince.) Sometimes they paid visits to the far corners of the kingdom, but more often they stuck to day trips near the castle.

Prince Oikawa was walking out of the barn, two horses in hand, in preparation for one of these trips when news of his father’s health taking a turn made its ultimate intrusion. The sun hadn’t been up long, dew still heavy on the grass, when Count Iwaizumi made his appearance.

“There you are!” the Prince chided him, “You’re running behind, you know?”

(Other nobles of Aobajohsai might have gotten in trouble for such tardiness, but the Count was an exception. After he and the Prince grew up side by side, Iwaizumi was the only person that could raise his voice or lay a hand on Oikawa without consequence.)

“There is news,” Iwaizumi did not bother apologizing.

“Of?” Oikawa handed off the Count’s horse.

“I have the report of your father’s annual physical.”

A pregnant pause.

“He’s dying.”

Prince Oikawa sighed, a frown creasing his otherwise flawless cheeks. He wasn’t surprised by this news—the king’s health had been questionable for years now—but it certainly wasn’t how he would like to have started his morning.

“Well, I guess it’s about time I get married then, huh?”

“Looks to be that way, sire.”

Four of them met in the great council room of the castle: Prince Oikawa, his greatest confidante, Count Iwaizumi, his father, the aging King, and his evil stepmother, the Queen.

(She wasn’t really evil. In fact, she was actually one of the most beloved people in the kingdom, and had been married to the King since long before he began mumbling. Prince Oikawa had been but a child then, and since the only stepmothers he knew of were the mean ones from fairy tales and bedtime stories, he had decided she must be evil.)

“Alright,” the Prince began once they had all been assembled. “I must marry soon, so we have to pick a bride for me.”

“Yes,” the King said, “I’ve been thinking it was about time we found you a bride.”

(In actuality, he mostly just mumbled it, like, “Yesss, I’ve beennn thumbleee about temmmm wefumbbble bridddde.”)

“You couldn’t be more right, dear,” the Queen patted the King’s shoulder. She was the only person that could decipher his words during these little episodes.

“What did he say?”

“He said whoever we decide on will be getting a wonderfully handsome prince for a lifetime companion,” the Queen replied.

“Ah, well thank you, Father. You’re looking quite well yourself,” Oikawa chuckled back.

“It’s the new miracle maker, I’m sure of it,” the King piped in, wiggling a finger. (It came out mumbled again: “I’ssss the nmumble mumble.”)

“What did he say?”

“He said a man of your importance shouldn’t marry just anyone.”

“I suppose,” Prince Oikawa rested his chin in his hands before sighing.

“What about that Ushijima?” The Queen suggested.

“It would be a good match politically,” Count Iwaizumi admitted, though he knew how much the idea revolted Oikawa.

Prince Ushijima was from Shiratorizawa, the country that lay across the Aoba Channel. (They put it differently in Shiratorizawa; Aobajohsai was the country across the Channel of Shiratorizawa, according to them. The two countries had a history together, spending centuries warring each other. There had been the Rice War, and then the Tuna Fish Discrepancy, which nearly sent both nations into bankruptcy, the Fern Fiasco, which did end up running them fiscally dry, but it was followed by the Great Emerald Boom, during which they both got rich again.)

“He’s a handsome young man, I think we should bring him over for a discussion,” the Queen said. She was always the peacemaker in the royal family, a diplomat through and through.

“No, absolutely not!” cried Prince Oikawa. If it had been any other person, had Ushijima had a sibling or something, perhaps he would have mulled it over, but that wasn’t the case. Oikawa simply could not marry Ushijima.

“There’s no other heirs in any neighboring countries that would benefit us,” Count Iwaizumi reminded him, though he knew it wouldn’t change the Prince’s mind.

“I’ll marry a commoner before I marry that Shiratorizawa filth!”

“Boo, no Shiratorizawa filth!” the King chimed in. (“Booo, numble shumble zumfle!”)

The room quieted for a moment; they seemed to be stuck. Finally, the Count perked up.

“Maybe you can marry a commoner.”

Dead silence again.

“Look, your people have been a bit tense with us nobles the past few years,” the Count continued. “You could bridge the gap by marrying a commoner.”

“A commoner as the princess, what a fun idea!” the King said. (“Commumble as theprimmmble, whumble fum idea!” His words were becoming a tiny bit clearer; he seemed to be coming out of the episode).

“What did he say?” Oikawa still asked.

“Whoever it is must look the part of a noble. They should at least look nice,” said the Queen.

“Of course! I’ll find a commoner so beautiful that when you see them, you stop and stare, and say, ‘Wow, that Prince Oikawa must be some kind of fella to marry someone like that.’ That’s what I’ll do! Search the country, no, search the world!”

Count Iwaizumi furrowed his brow in thought.

“No, I think she is already found,” he said. An uncharacteristic smile crossed his face.

The next day at dawn, the two young noblemen reined in their horses at the hilltop by your farm. Iwaizumi rode a massive black gelding, stout and bulging with muscles. Prince Oikawa rode one of his whites, leaner and elegant. His mare made Iwaizumi’s mount seem like a lowly plow puller.

“She delivers milk from her family’s farm to the market square in the mornings,” Count Iwaizumi told him.

“And she’s truly-not-a-shadow-of-a-doubt-without-question beautiful?” Oikawa asked.

“You calling me a liar?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Oikawa chuckled.

“She was something of a mess when I saw her,” admitted the Count, still grinning in amusement. “But she was still one of the most beautiful people I have laid eyes on.”

From the bottom of the hill, you appeared, turning your horse (whose name now seems quite ironic) onto the path to the farm. Even from this distance, Oikawa knew Iwaizumi was right.

“I must court my princess, now.”

“Good luck,” the Count teased, unknowing that the Prince might actually need it.

And so the Prince rode on, maneuvering his horse quite expertly down the hill until he was at your side.

You blinked curiously when he approached. You had never seen such a man, riding such a brilliantly shiny horse and wearing such extravagantly crafted clothes.

“Are you Miss (y/n)?”

“I am. Who’s asking?”

“Your prince,” Oikawa grinned a dazzling grin. “I’ve come to ask for your hand in marriage.”

Marriage? You continued riding, with one eyebrow quirked incredulously.

“I’m sorry, sire, but I refuse.”

“You can’t refuse.”

“I just did.”

“But refusal could mean treason, and treason means death,” explained a very confused Prince.

“Kill me then,” you told him.

“But…” the Prince trailed off. For the first time in his life, he was left dumbfounded. Speechless. Shellshocked. He had not been prepared to be turned down, not even slightly.

“But I’m your Prince! And—” Oikawa was beginning to stumble over his words. “And I’m not that bad. How could you rather be dead than married to me?”

“It’s nothing personal, sire,” you soothed his ego. “But marriage involves love, and love has never been particularly kind to me, so I’m sworn to never love again.”

Prince Oikawa’s brows furrowed, creasing his otherwise flawless forehead.

“Love? Who said anything about love?” he said. “Look, here’s the deal. There must always be a male heir to the throne of Aobajohsai. Once my father dies, there will only be a king: me. All I ask is that you marry me so that I can provide a new heir to the throne.”

You stared at him silently.

“You’ll get to be the richest and most powerful woman in the country, and give away turkeys at Christmas and meet people from foreign countries. You could even provide us nobles insight to better help commoners like yourself. So won’t you be my wife?”

You paused again, looking back over at your family’s humble little house. Your father was growing older, and milking the cows everyday was becoming difficult with his aching joints.

“I won’t ever love you.”

“If that is what you wish,” Prince Oikawa said.

“Then by all means, let us marry.”

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #hq x reader #hq imagine #hq scenario #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo fanfiction #kuroo imagine #kuroo scenario #my writing

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years

Text

The Russian and The American P19 Dancing

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER RATING: ADORABLE

I stood doing my usual poses even if my balance was a little off today making me have to focus much more. I had gained weight, I know I have. I didn't even need to weigh myself I could tell by my balance and such. I didn't worry about it, it's likely the lack of dancing, the lack of pills, and the pizza. Yeah the Pizza wasn't helping. Benny sat at the table fiddling with the chess pieces as he watched me,

"It's Rude To Stare Mr Watts" I Said

"I know... But I like watching you do your poses" He says "I'd love to watch you dance"

"Well, I don't really have space in here benny" I laughed sitting at the able with him and beginning out game

"Y/n?" Benny asked after a while

"Yes?" I asked as I focused on the board

"When's your birthday?"

"My what?"

"You're Birthday"

"Ohh... I don't know"

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Knowone ever told me" I explain "They didn't like us to get special treatment or time of.. So"

"So, They never told you your birthday?"

"No, Why do You ask?"

"Curious is all Y/n."

"Well, I have no idea"

"Would you.. Like to have a birthday?"

"I don't know" I said "I'm not sure, I don't really worry about it"

"Okay" He nodded smiling a little He sighed looking at the board for a moment rubbing his chin a little before sighing again and putting his king down, I smiled resting my chin on my hand smiling at him "I know I know" he sighed "You're Still better than me" he says getting up giving my forehead a kiss before he went to the fridge "Would you like... a Cheese and Uhhhhh Egg sandwich?" he suggests as he looked in the fridge

"No thank you Benny" I laughed, setting the board back up "You are doing a lot of shopping lately?"

"Yeah well I'm used to shopping for just me. Still haven't got used to you being here I guess. Plus I think we are both kinda eating more, due to the fact we can'/t really go anywhere"

"You can go places benny" I laughed as he began making himself a sandwich

"I know I just don't like leaving you for along longer then like a shopping trip"

"What about The championship?" I asked

"Hu?"

"The Southern Championship in austin?" I remind him "next week?"

"Ohh I won't bother"

"Why not? You're the US champion you have to go" "Not If I don't want to" he says "I don't go to everything y/n. Sometimes I go and don't even play, I'm not leaving you here all alone for a week, I'll stay here with you" he says taking a bite from his sandwich "Ehhhh...." He groans spitting it out into the sink "The bread has gone off" He complained "I need to go shopping don't I?"

"Yeah I think you do" I laughed

"Did you want to help me write the list so we get the stuff you want?" He asks and I nodded, getting a little note and a pen as he went through the kitchen and listed the things we needed "Do you want some chocolate?"

"Not really" I shrug "Did you want some candy?"

"No I'm good, Did you want another bottle of wine?"

"Would you like a bottle of wine?"

"Maybe, I'll see what they have" He says "Would you like some Vodka?"

"No thank you"

"I still can't believe you don't like Vodka" he says leaning against the sink and crossing his arms as he faced me

"Why not?" I laughed

"You're Russian"

"Okay A that's rude. B not all Russians like vodka"

"Do you know a single person in Russia who doesn't?"

"I don't" "Other then you"

"..... Shut up"

"I know" he laughs, getting his wallet and taking the list from me "You'll be okay on your own?"

"When Aren't I?" I laughed getting up and giving him a cuddle as he got ready to go out by the door as he slipped on his jacket

"Okay, see you later" He smiled giving my cheek a kiss before opening the door

"Benny!" I said before he left

"Yeah?"

"Don't be long" I told him hugging him tightly

"I won't, I promise" He smiled hugging me back he pulled back and gave my lips a sweet soft kiss I held his jacket tightly not wanting him to go as we kissed till we both pulled away "stay safe" he says before hurting out the door shutting and locking it behind him.

I sighed looking at the quiet and empty flat, somehow this place had begun... to feel like home to me. It had been months since I ran off and I knew they were still desperately looking for me, begging to assume I was dead. And I liked every moment of it, Even if I hadn't stepped outside this apartment in months, Even if I spent my time doing chess and Ballet this felt so much more like home to me. Just spending my time just playing chess with Benny, doing laundry, washing up, changing the bed It all made me happy. These Tall stone walls had a warmth even in their icy chill, The Flutters of light that cascaded through the high windows in the wall causing shadows across the chess pieces and my dresses. I had spent so much of my torcherous life underground in bunkers staring at the few flickers of real light that this dirty little apartment gave me a reminder of home but not the fear of home. And With Benny around, I felt... Happy, Even if joy had once seemed impossible to me.

I tidied up and sorted the apartment cleaning up and such when a while later Benny returned "Hey Honey Bunny" He smiled to me

"Hey Benny" I smiled back He took the brown shopping bags to the kitchen counter "How was shopping?"

"It was alright, had to fight a woman for milk"

"Did you?"

"I did, there was only one left and she wasn't backing down" He explained

"What happened?" I laughed

"Well... I won't explain all you need to know is we have milk" he says putting the milk bottles in the fridge "Ohh uhh I have a surprise for you" he says as he unpacked the shopping

"A Surprise? For me?" I asked "Can I have it?"

"You can, But not yet" He says "Go get changed into your pretty dress, the one you dance in" He told me I nodded a little confused going into the bedroom and getting into my little dress and as soon as I was done I went out seeing that the room was much bigger where benny had moved some furniture around to open up much more space, Benny stood there just pushing the last chair away to the corner his shirt buttoned up completely He smiled offering his hand to me "Dobryy vecher" he smiled "Khochesh' potantsevat' so mnoy, moya ledi?"

"What do you mean?" I laughed taking his hand

"I thought you would like to dance with me" he suggested

"Dance To what?" I laughed

"I got you a little present, I found it at a Yard sale on my way to the store" He says getting something from on top of the record player showing me the vinyl cardboard cover

"The Music Of Swan Lake" I read

"I thought you would like it, as maybe a kinda birthday present," he explained, putting it back again, "So maybe we could have a dance?"

"You really mean it?"

"Of course Honey Bunny" he smiled kissing my head and starting the record player and the music starting to play, "Now I have No Idea how this works so your going to need to lead a little bit" He explained

I giggled and held his hands gently dancing with him even if he tripped over or stepped on my feet a lot both of us hardly ever in time with the music until the end of the track so I gave up and wrapped my arms around him and gave his lips a sweet and rather passionate kiss, he kissed back holding me close too as we stood kissing for a good while the next song long into the opening till we pulled away and I rested my head on his chest and he rested his chin on my head

"I'll admit I do not know the Ballet" He laughs "But I am pretty sure they don't do that at the end"

"No they don't, But I think it works" I smiled giving him a kiss.

#benny #benny smut #benny x reader #benny imagine #benny watts #benny watts imagine #BENNYWATTS #bennywattssmut #benny watts smut #tbs #thomas #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #thomassangster #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas sangster imagine

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kbandtrash · 4 years

Text

Surrounded (Mafia Crossover AU)(Part 10)

~Megan~

Masterlist

Day6/N.Flying/The Rose/Like any other kband honestly x Reader

Warnings: Violence, self-harm

Word Count: 2k

Part 1

“Jaehyun? Can we talk now?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “of course.”

“Could you tell me about N.Flying… a little?”

He looked at you sadly as he sat next to you on the bench. Minhyuk was doing a few warm-ups a few feet away.

The trainer sighed, scratching the back of his neck. He seemed unwilling to say much about the topic, but you needed some answers.

“As you know, The Rose is small. Only four members. But being small allows them to have a sneakier advantage. They can also recover and escape quickly.” He paused, leaning on his hands placed behind him. He was looking nowhere in particular, but had a nostalgic look in his eyes.

“The Rose is responsible for a lot of the recent Mafia attacks. N.Flying’s headquarters were burned to dust maybe two months ago. Lots of other groups have been attacked and even killed in similar fires.”

“That's awful. Why?” you complained, clenching your jaw.

“No one really knows. A lot of the time, we aren't even entirely sure it was The Rose, either.”

“So the enemy…”

“...could be bigger, that's right,” he finished. He shook his head as if he were a wet dog, his expression sorrowful.

“We… lost one of our best spies in the fire. Kwangjin. He was… a great friend. Then there’s Dongsung, who came from HONEYST—a code name for heist. He was the only survivor from when they were caught trying to save one of their allies. He looks fine, but really he's hurt.”

“Who wouldn't be?”

“In his case, it’s harder for him. He was their leader, and messed up that day, which ended in their demise.” Jaehyun shivered and hugged himself. “His members were willing to give their own lives to let Dongsung escape, which made him feel even guiltier.”

You met Jaehyun’s eyes to see tears in his eyes. You had to look away quickly so you wouldn't cry yourself.

“Anyway,” the trainer continued, blinking away his tears, “Dongsung replaced Kwangjin. He was already somewhat close with Hun, so it worked out.”

“So that's N.Flying’s backstory?”

“As much as I can tell you, I think.”

“But,” you started, hesitating, and then lowering your voice, “how does Minhyuk fit into this?”

Jaehyun flipped his head toward you, his eyes wide. For a second, all he did was open and close his mouth, as if he were a fish.

Wanting to lighten the mood you had set, you said, “You’re going to catch a fly with your mouth open like that.”

He closed his mouth promptly and nodded. “I suppose I can tell you a little bit about him. What do you know?”

“Well, he said he's so weak because he used to be a ballet dancer. That's all I know.”

Jaehyun started laughing, catching Minhyuk’s attention from feet away. He quickly covered his own mouth and gestured for Minhyuk to keep lifting his weights—light ones.

Still giggling a little, he responded with, “He definitely didn't dance before, that's for sure. He was part of another mafia.”

“Oh. Why'd he lie?”

Jaehyun immediately stopped laughing, as if a sign to say he was about to get really serious. “He was part of CNBLUE, or Code Name Blue. There, they worked with hacking and information on targets and such. But they were also very apt at fighting. They were some of the strongest people I knew.”

“Then why is he so weak? Why is he part of N.Flying now?” you asked, getting a little impatient; you felt like he was avoiding answering the most important questions.

He clenched his jaw and stood up. “Our time is up. Seunghyub can answer your questions, I think. Good luck.” With that, he nodded at you and walked toward his trainee coldly.

How had his attitude changed so much throughout that conversation? He left you wondering more about what he hadn't said.

Quietly, you stood and bowed your goodbye to the two as you passed them. You paused in the doorway, however, to look back and notice three men come out of the locker rooms, ready to train. You dismissed that and waved a final goodbye to Minhyuk, who still had his eyes on you.

You left the room without a word, wondering where Hun had gone.

You found him in the infirmary, Wonpil absent from his usual post. Instead, Wonpil lay in a bed, unable to walk around with his leg so badly injured.

When you walked into the room, you felt a tension grow in the air. Wonpil met your eyes with a cold stare, but you tore away your gaze so you could ignore the feeling of guilt in your stomach.

Hun hadn't noticed you yet, preoccupied with Dowoon on another bed. You hung your head and took a seat on the floor silently, realizing the two had both been stabbed by you. Your chest tightened and you felt a sudden feeling of hopelessness.

It was you who hurt them. It was you who they didn't trust. It was you.

You hugged your knees close to your chest and looked at Wonpil again. This time, his cold dark eyes had softened into sad brown eyes, as if he pitied you. When he opened his mouth as if to speak to you, you flinched, thinking he would say something awful to you.

“Hun,” he began quietly, catching his friend’s attention, “someone’s here for you.”

Hun turned toward the door with a blank face, which brightened a little at the sight of you. “Y/N! You finished with Jaehyun?”

You hopped off the floor hurriedly and nodded. “Yeah.”

He returned the nod and gestured to Dowoon. “Since Wonpil is unavailable to assist Dowoon, I did a quick check up on both of them. Luckily, thanks to your sense of care, you didn't hurt them too badly. They'll be up and moving like normal in a few days.”

“Sense of care?” you repeated, wondering what that meant. You had hurt them, what more was there?

Hun sighed and sat on the swivel chair at the desk. “We know it's an instinct when you touch a weapon to attack, thanks to your past. But because you care and have changed, you realize that you've hurt them and stop.”

“You make me sound like a good guy.”

“That's because, in some ways, you are. It's just hard to be fully good when someone bad is trying to control you.”

Your heart swelled happily, and you smiled, feeling grateful for his words. “That makes me feel better. Thanks.”

“No problem. Now, I'm done with the check up,” he said, turning to Wonpil, who was wide awake, and Dowoon, who had his eyes half open, “so I'll be leaving. I'll send Dongsung to keep you company.”

Wonpil nodded, lifting his arm weakly and giving a thumbs-up. “Thanks, Hun.”

Hun turned to you and gestured out the door. “Let's go, Y/N.”

“Who’s next?”

“Dongsung will be busy with the infirmary patients, and Seunghyub is in a meeting with a few other important people. Hweseung wanted to talk later, so we're crashing in on the meeting.”

“Are we even allowed to do that?”

“No idea. But first we have to tell Dongsung about his duty.”

“Alright,” you said, following Hun at his fast pace down the halls.

You passed the long table you had seen after ascending stairs for the first time. The room was empty, even though you had heard of a supposed meeting. You assumed another meeting spot would be better for more sheltered topics, and with more important people attending.

Hun noticed you lagging behind him and gently touched your elbow. “Come on, Y/N. We've got to go.”

You nodded and began to step down the stairwell after him, finding your legs having a difficult time. Putting your hands on the railing, you leaned heavily on it to assist yourself; but it didn't work too well.

Your feet slipped and you landed on the edge of a step, hitting your tailbone. You cried out and gripped the railing so you wouldn't fall any further, while Hun turned around in shock.

“Are you okay?!” he exclaimed, eyes wide. You were shaking, but you managed to nod. You had stopped anything more from happening, and then pain in your back was already fading. Hun looked relieved and offered you his hand.

You reached for it and stood up, teetering a little. You laughed it off and tried to take your hand away, but he held tightly and began to help you down the steps. He was so close to you that you felt shivers run down your spine.

The close proximity was short-lived as you walked onto the cold stone of the dungeons. He let you go and headed down a hall quickly, so he was a few feet ahead of you. Maybe he had felt uncomfortable with you, but you were disappointed he had left you behind so quickly.

You followed him into a room, now carpeted and cozy-looking. It had a TV on the blue-green wall, white couches in front of it, and a large circular table with one person seated at it.

The person in particular had wavy brown hair, big eyes, and a bowl of Cheerios and milk in front of him. He had a mouthful of the cereal and he was staring at what was on the TV. Curious, you followed his line of sight and saw some drama playing, in which a man with a strange haircut and a girl with a yellow umbrella were arguing.

Hun walked right up to the boyish man and punched his cheek teasingly. “Dongsungie, you're needed in the infirmary!” he said cutely, taking you off guard. He had a mischievous grin on his face and big, blinking eyes. He looked like a puppy, begging his owner for a walk, except the doctor’s already cat-like features ruined the effect.

‘Dongsungie’ clearly didn't fall for it, pushing his hyung away carelessly. You watched him scoop his cereal into his mouth happily, a little smile on his face. How he was part of a mafia with his babyish looks and actions was beyond your knowledge.

Hun folded his arms, no longer holding up a grin; it had been replaced with a scowl that could've given you nightmares. His dark eyes were shadowed and his lips twitched ever-so-slightly, as if they would start yelling at any second.

“Our maknae of the group…” Hun began, a bitter tinge to his sweet voice, “you’re on duty in the infirmary.”

Dongsung looked at Hun indifferently for a moment, then shrugged. With his mouth half-full, he asked shamelessly, “How much will you give me?”

Hun rolled his eyes and blew his bangs out of his eyes angrily. “I'm heading to Seunghyub now anyway, so I'll let him know you need some help.”

Merely the mention of their leader’s name got Dongsung off his chair. However, his face wasn't worried. He had a look of sorrow and anger that made his little smile flicker.

“I don't need help.” His tone was drenched in bitterness.

“Are you sure?” Hun replied, thorns laced through his words. “You seem to be taking a while.”

You had been standing awkwardly by the whole time, and your legs kind of ached from the stairs, so you quietly took a seat at the table. You were at the opposite end, but the sudden movement caught Dongsung’s attention.

Turning toward you and stepping closer to you swiftly, the man answered, “I’ll go now.”

He gave you a curious look before marching out of the room.

“I guess that's that,” Hun shrugged. “Good timing, Y/N.”

“No problem.” You got out of the chair.

“We should get going.” But instead of immediately heading out the door, he peeked at the guard’s cereal bowl. A frown took over his face. “He didn't even finish his Cheerios.”

You chuckled, and Hun reluctantly led you to the next destination.

Part 11

#day6 #n.flying #the rose #day6 x reader #n.flying x reader #the rose x reader #n.flying fanfic #day6 fanfic #the rose fanfic #day6 au #n.flying au #the rose au #kpop #crossover #surrounded #megan

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

feelings are fatal (8/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 4,647

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing

masterlist

a/n: I’m so sorry. This chapter physically hurt me so I’m sorry if you feel hurt. Let me know what you think!

This compound was weird.

Well, maybe not so much weird as different. Like, everything in the kitchen was wrong. The coffee maker was to the left of the fridge and not the right. The silverware drawer was in the island. The milk was on the top shelf and not the middle. And in the living room, there were three couches, not four.

And it wasn’t a bad thing, except sometimes you stared at the empty space where another couch should’ve been and you remembered all the times your team would cram together on the cushions for dinner.

The one thing that didn’t feel different was the dance studio.

You’d found it within a week of moving in, though you hadn’t ever gone in. You’d lingered at the door a few times, considered walking in and just sitting on the hardwood floor, but something stopped you.

Maybe it was some strange case of survivor’s guilt. Because dancing had always been more her thing, something she was much better at than you. You were a great dancer, sure, but you had never felt the love for it that she had.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and walked inside. The sunlight pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows to your left was so bright that you didn’t bother turning on the lights. No need to. Dust swirled through the air as you tossed your duffel bag on the ground, digging out your pointe shoes.

The satin felt so soft against your fingertips. Such a familiar, comforting feeling.

Without a second thought, you tugged the shoes on, relishing the feeling of tying the ribbons. Dancing had always been therapeutic for you, and you were wondering if it would help just as much now that the world had been put back together.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you said as you stood, shaking out your feet a little. “Play Swan Lake by Pyotr Illyich Tchaikovsky.”

The smell of sweat still lingered in the dance studio, but then again, you supposed it never really faded. The sun was sinking low beyond the horizon and you knew that someone would come along to fetch you for bed sooner or later. The natural light coming in through the window was slowly fading.

And sundown meant being ordered onto a thin mattress, handcuffs keeping you from running.

After dinner, every girl had about an hour and a half of free time to do whatever she wished. Most girls spent it in the showers, washing away the grime of the day. If they didn’t get it done in the hour and a half, they wouldn’t have a chance until the next night. The only time they were afforded in the mornings was ten minutes to brush their teeth and get on their leotards and tights.

And tights were a bitch.

You took in a deep breath as you reset your feet, determination clear by the way your brows furrowed. Judging by the sun’s position, you had about forty-five minutes left at most and there was no way in hell you were going to waste it. You weren’t as good as the other girls in ballet, and it was starting to become obvious. You could only do single pirouettes while the others were doing doubles. Your pas de chats weren’t as clear and sometimes, when your brain felt particularly fuddled, you did a glissade instead.

You absolutely could not fall anymore behind. You had seen the way that Madame B was starting to watch you, a frown permanently etched on her lips. Even though you were the youngest of the girls in the Red Room, you knew she held the same expectations she had for Rosemary and Victoria, the two six-year-olds.

Natalia frowned as she heard music drifting down the hall, turning towards the sound. “Nobody should be in the studio,” she murmured softly, the man beside her stilling as she began to head towards it.

“Natalia,” he said gruffly, but she didn’t listen. His metal arm glinted in the light as he followed after her. She’d spent the past three hours in a training with him, working on her hand-to-hand with him, and while they didn’t have to report to Madame B after, she always walked with him to the room where his handler was waiting.

Her feet carried her to the doors of the dance studio, her heart softening when she saw you. She vaguely recognized you, knowing that you were the youngest girl currently at in the Red Room. It had been a while since they’d brought anyone new in, and she knew it was only a matter time before another one joined their ranks.

You looked up as you heard the door opening, stopping in the middle of an across-the-floor. Your e/c eyes roamed over the sharp features of the redhead who stood in the doorway, vaguely recognizing that there was a man looming in the shadows behind her.

“You like Swan Lake?” She asked, slowly coming into the room.

You nodded, though you were still hesitant as you watched her. “It’s my favorite.”

Her eyes lit up as she toed off her shoes, letting her bag fall to the ground. “Mine, too.” But as she walked closer to you, you took a few steps back. “What are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be showering and spending time with your friends?”

Frowning, you turned your eyes back to the mirror, watching yourself as you reset your feet. “Madame B says that friends are attachments and attachments mean strings. And those strings turn into a noose.”

And oh, how Natalia’s heart broke.

Because she knew what it was like to think that way. Hell, she thought that way until she was about eight and one of the older girls offered to teach her how to braid her hair because it was a little thing that made life in the Red Room not so bleak. Being able to do something with your hair other than a tight bun made you feel like less of a robot and more like a girl.

She bit her lip, trying to think of how to best approach you. You were trying to ignore her, though she could see the way your eyes would flit over to her every few seconds. “But don’t you at least want a shower?” She asked.

You bit your lip, shrugging as you pushed up to relevé, your arms wavering as you tried to hold onto first position. The only sound came from the tinkling of the radio, and she briefly noted that it was somewhere in act two. “I’m not as good as the other girls.”

Nat let out a soft sigh, a little relieved that that was all. “But you’re a little younger than—”

“I can see how Madame B looks at me,” you said, worry etched into your face. “I have to get better.”

And she realized that you knew what would happen if you didn’t. You were well aware of the fact that there was no room for imperfection anywhere, whether that be in how well you could take down an opponent and how straight your legs were during a jeté.

You would be put down. Shot between the eyes like a dog. There would be no funeral, no memorial service. Just a quick shot and even quicker clean up. One of the girls would be tasked with bleaching the floor until there was no trace of blood left while two others were ordered to drab your body outside. You’d be buried in an unmarked grave somewhere behind the brick building all of you resided in. Probably behind the shed.

“May I help you?” Natalia asked after staring at you for what she knew was probably much too long. But you were so young. So young, and it hurt her to know that you were so worried about dying.

For what seemed like the millionth time, doubts about what she was raised for came to mind. She knew that within the next year and a half or so, she’d graduate and then she’d be passed over to HYDRA, but she just didn’t know if she could do it. She didn’t know if she had the strength to be such a force.

You were clearly suspicious of her, but you nodded anyway. After all, she was one of the best dancers there and if she wanted to help you, it was most likely your best bet.

Her lips stretched into a wide, dazzling smile as she came to stand beside you. “Great. But,” she stopped and couched down so the two of you were eye level. “I need you to trust me, okay?”

“But—”

“No,” she said, raising up a hand. “I know what Madame B said about strings. But…” She pointed down at your ballet slippers, tugging on the silk ribbon. “Think of us as ballet ribbons, okay? Tying us together.”

Bucky grinned as he slugged Sam in the shoulder, shifting the bags in in hand around. He’d finally gotten around to going shopping for clothes that weren’t ‘Assassin Chic’ according to Wanda. Sure, he had a few pairs of jeans and plain t-shirts, but nothing that was really his.

There was one outfit in particular he was excited about. A suit, matte black with a matching button down. Oxfords and a bowtie to go with it. When he’d seen it in the store, he’d had visions of you smoothing your hands over the lapels, fixing his bowtie for him. Standing so close that he could smell your shampoo.

But that would have to wait. It’d have to wait until you were ready and over your horrible breakup and he was more than willing to wait. Regardless of the fact that it could take years, he was prepared.

He’d also have to get the courage to actually ask you on the date, but that was besides the point. The point was that he wanted to and he was embracing that now. He was allowing himself to dream of a time when he could pull you into his arms, twirl you around the dance floor. Confess to you how he felt without fear of you pushing him away.

Bucky’s eyes lit up as him and Sam got out of the elevator, finding a tiny Stark running straight for him.

“Uncle Bucky!”

“Hey, kiddo!” He let his bags drop as the little girl careened herself into his embrace. When she leaned back, he couldn’t help but laugh as he saw the flecks of paint covering her. “Did you have fun with Auntie Wanda today?”

She nodded excitedly, not unlike a bobble head. “I painted!” Morgan then grabbed his hand, giving him just a second to grab his shopping bags before dragging him over to the kitchen island. Paints and brushes are still littered everywhere, little specks of blue and yellow and purple and every other color imaginable speckling the marble. “Look!”

His heart swelled as he looked at the piece of paper she was shoving towards him, gingerly taking it in his hands. “Who’s this?”

“That’s you!” She said, pointing towards a very distinct Bucky. It’s a stick figure, sure, but it’s got long brown hair and a much bigger left arm that’s painted like the one he received from Shuri. “That’s me, and that’s Auntie Y/N!” And sure enough, there you are. The two of your stick figures are on either side of Morgan’s.

“I love it,” he said, pulling her into another hug. “It looks just like us.” He frowned as he took in the rest of the kitchen’s occupants. Wanda and Rhodey were standing at the stove, both working on their respective dinners as they chatted quietly. Sam had disappeared to his room to put away his own purchases. He could hear Pepper talking on the phone quietly in the living room, probably some big name client looking to go back over their contract with Stark Industries.

Wanda turned towards him, grinning as she spotted the bags. She’d been smiling a lot more lately, even though there were still moments when she’d remember Vision was gone and it’d be back to her room until her tears stopped and she was ready to interact with everyone again. “Are you finally embracing the twenty-first century fashion?” She asked as she spotted the bags from H&M, ASOS, Macy’s, and Zara.

“Something like that,” he said with a faint smile. He looked around the kitchen again, making sure he wasn’t just missing you. But, then again, he was sure he’d always find you in a room. “Where’s Y/N?”

Morgan pursed her lower lip as her arms crossed over her chest. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. won’t tell me.”

Well, that’s… concerning. Bucky looked up towards the ceiling, as though he’d see a physical form of the A.I. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., where’s Y/N?”

“Agent L/N asked me to not give anyone her whereabouts.”

“I’m gonna go find her,” he said, ruffling Morgan’s hair before heading towards the elevator. He knew there was no way you’d be in your room after giving F.R.I.D.A.Y. orders like that. No. You were somewhere in the compound, away from everyone else’s eyes. And any other time, he’d respect your wishes. He’d give you your alone time. But something in his gut told him to find you, and his gut hadn’t led him wrong before.

Glissade. Assemblé. Glissade. Assemblé. Echappé. Echappé. Triple pirouette. Repeat.

Sweat dripped down your brow, but you ignored it. You were too focused on going through the combination. You weren’t sure how long it had been, though you knew it had been a few hours. Enough time that Swan Lake had looped once and you were now halfway through act three once again.

You frowned as you heard the door opening. You’d told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to not let anyone know where you were.

“Y/N.”

You fell out of your pirouette, wobbling a little as you turned to look at the intruder. Bucky was frozen in the doorway, his sea blue eyes locked on your feet. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. “What?”

He rushed towards you, his hands reaching for your face. “What the hell are you doing?”

It was only when he wiped at your face that you realized you were crying. Trembling, you reached up and touched your cheek, your hand drawing back as though you’d been stung. Your eyes focused on the bit of wetness that lingered on your fingertips.

Had you really been crying?

“Y/N. Y/N, look at me,” Bucky said. His hands were smoothing back the hair that had fallen out of your bun, blue eyes watering as he searched your face. “Are you okay?”

“I… I…” Truth be told, you didn’t know. You had no idea how long you’d been there. It was long enough that the sun had almost completely disappeared beyond the horizon, F.R.I.D.A.Y. having automatically turned on the studio lights.

He took a step back, looking you over since it was clear that you were unable to give an answer of your own. His eyes reached your feet and he cursed, dropping to his knees. “Y/N, holy fuck.”

Your gaze drifted lethargically until you found yourself staring at your pointe shoes. Your pretty, previously pristine pointe shoes. Little blotches of red were staining the pink satin.

“Y/N, how long have you been dancing?” Bucky asked as he coaxed you down into a sitting position. His hands shakily began to unwrap your pointe shoes, desperate to take them off of you but terrified of the damage.

You blinked slowly at him, shivering. “I don’t know.” Now that you were aware of the fact that you were bleeding, you could feel the pain coursing through your toes and up through your legs.

He winced as he tugged off the first pointe shoe, a squelch resounding through the air. The second one was just the same, and it took a lot in you to actually look at the damage you had caused.

Bile rose in your throat as you looked at them. Blisters covered your feet, though most of them had popped. Your big toenail on your right foot was half off, blood slowly trickling from the wound. The skin was rubbed raw, red and angry and bleeding.

“I… I’m sorry,” you croaked, a fresh wave of tears coming on as you stared at your feet.

Bucky’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his jaw slack. “What? Malen'kiy, no. No.” He pulled you close, his strong arms wrapping around you as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. “You have no reason to be sorry.”

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You were outright sobbing now, fingers clutching onto his shirt as he rocked you back and forth. Swan Lake continued to play in the background. It was a rather dramatic soundtrack for a rather dramatic moment, you thought fleetingly.

The super soldier wanted nothing more than to be able to take your pain away. Whatever had caused you to do this, he wanted to end it. But he knew that more often than not, your battles were ones that he couldn’t fight for you. He could only be by your side and offer you a shoulder to cry on, arms to hold you, while you worked through all of it.

Even though your feet hurt like a bitch and you knew they needed to be bandaged, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand. You didn’t want to leave this place. This place that reminded you so much of Natasha. “I… I couldn’t remember the combination anymore,” you said.

“What?”

Eyes glazed over, you stared out the windows at the retreating sun. “She always did this one across-the-floor for warmups. It was glissade, assemble, glissade, assemble, echappé, echappé, triple pirouette. Or…” You trailed off, frustration rising in your stomach like curdled milk. “Or it was glissade, assemble, chappé, glissade, assemble, echappé, triple pirouette.” You groaned, fingers gripping your hair. “I c-can’t remember, god damn it!”

And Bucky wanted to cry. He wanted to cry and sob for you because fuck, you’re realizing that as time passes, you’re not going to remember the little things, like what Natasha’s favorite ballet combination was. One day you won’t remember what color the ratty t-shirt she always slept in was, or whether she liked pepperoni on her pizza or not.

And he knows why ballet hurt the most. Why it would be the worst thing you could lose. He had been there when Natasha first talked to you, all those years ago. You’d only been five years old and had stared at the redhead with such distrust that it was hard to believe that you two would become so close later on. He’d watched in the doorway as Nat helped you perfect every move. Every pirouette, every fouetté, every pas de bourrée.

Of course, he hadn’t known then how much you would eventually mean to him.

“Hey, Barnes.”

Bucky was surprised to see Natalia standing in front of him, so familiar after all those years. “Hi.”

She took a seat beside him, crossing her legs as she handed him a beer. It was strange, drinking at a time like this. There were six of you cramped into a motel room with only two beds and a pullout couch, and with his best friend having his girlfriend with him and Wanda and Vision being a… thing, it would seem as though the Winter Soldier was going to have to sleep in the same bed as the infamous Black Widow.

Fantastic.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, popping open her own beer and taking a long drink. Her gaze was locked on you, even though you were currently asleep with your head in Steve’s lap. He’d noticed that she was incredibly protective of you, and had no desire to invoke her wrath.

Which would be easy if he didn’t know you.

For the past four days, he’d been trying his best to convince himself that he didn’t know you. He didn’t know twenty-year-old you. He knew seventeen-year-old you. He’d known a girl who was trapped in the Red Room and was preparing to spend her life working for HYDRA, not the Avenger who was in love with his best friend.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t know that girl.

And if you recognized him, you hid it well. Sure, you were friendly and held conversations with him, but never anything too long. Never anything meaningful. And yeah, it hurt, because it wasn’t like he’d been wearing his mask when he’d trained you.

Was he really that forgettable?

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying his best to appear nonchalant. Besides all the shit he was going through with trying to pretend as though you didn’t mean the world to him, he was also still coming to terms with the fact that he’d been used as a weapon against his own will for over seventy years.

“I mean, we went on the run four days ago,” Nat said with an eyeroll. “You had your entire life uprooted.”

“Wasn’t much of a life, to be honest,” he said, briefly thinking back to the shitty one-bedroom apartment he had kept in Bucharest. His eyes slowly slid back over to you, though he didn’t realize how obvious he was being.

The redhead followed his gaze, smiling a little. “That’s Y/N. Been on our team for about two years now.” She suddenly turned on him, and he’s afraid that she knew he already knew her when she said, “You might actually recognize her. The first time I talked to her, you were there. She was this little thing I helped teach ballet. You watched in the doorway when I first found her in the Red Room.”

And oh. He actually hadn’t known that was you. And you know what, that’s even more strange because now he knew three versions of you. He knew little five-year-old you, fifteen to seventeen-year-old you, and now twenty-year-old you.

“You’re close with her?” He said, though he already knew the answer. Could see it in the way that Natasha was never too far from you. Even if you were in Steve’s more than capable arms, she was always ready to take over. It didn’t matter that you were also a highly trained assassin, you were her pseudo little sister.

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah. I am. And now, I think it’s time for me to do my ‘sisterly duty’ and get everyone to bed. It’s been a long few days and I’m ready to sleep on an actual bed and not a quinjet bunk.” She threw back the rest of her beer as she stood up. She clapped a hand onto his shoulder which threw him for a moment, but he tried not to let it show. “Alright, Rogers. I’m staying in Y/N’s bed so I don’t have to share with Barnes here.”

And oh. That’s kind of nice. Because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t really want to share a bed with her, and he also really didn’t want Steve to share a bed with you.

Even though that made absolutely zero sense since you were his best friend’s girlfriend.

“I actually managed to get her out of the Red Room.”

His head whipped up to look up at the assassin, shocked that she was still talking and hoping that this wasn’t heading towards a conversation he really didn’t want to have at the moment. From just behind the redhead, he could see Steve tucking you into the spot closest to the wall—the farthest away from the window and therefore, the safest in case there was an attack. He was doing his best not to wake you, though he could hear you mumbling, still half-asleep.

Natasha hesitated before continuing, “I actually… I rescued her because I got a message through a back channel, telling me that Madame B was going to kill her and I needed to get her out.”

Bucky didn’t reply, just swallowed down the lump in his throat as he moved to crawl onto the pullout bed, choosing the spot closest to the window. Nat seemed to realize the conversation was now officially over and got into bed with you, Wanda and Vision crawling into their own bed in the middle. He closed his eyes as the light went out, feeling the bed dip as Steve got in. The only thing he could hear was the steady breaths as everyone slowly feel into a deep slumber.

You sniffled as you clutched onto the super soldier, the sobs slowing down as your body ran out of water to cry. Exhaustion was quickly catching up with you as your eyes began to flutter shut. “I-I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, it’s okay, malen'kiy. Rest,” he murmured, lips pressing to your hair. His own cheeks were stained with tears as he felt you relax in his arms, finally giving into your body’s needs. “I’m here. I’m here.”

He waited until you were completely asleep to stand up, cradling you to his chest. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., please turn off the music and lights,” he whispered, being careful not to wake you. He left the pointe shoes behind as he carried you out of the dance studio and up to your room. He knew that you’d have to have your feet checked over tomorrow and that he really needed to talk to you about seeing Sam, but that last thing could wait until you had a full night’s rest.

Bucky laid you ever-so-gently on your bed, hesitating before grabbing a washrag and a first aid kit from your bathroom and wetting it. He didn’t want to leave you for a single second. He knelt beside the bed and carefully wiped the blood from your feet, wincing as he saw the open sores left from the popped blisters.

“James?”

Cursing under his breath, he said, “Go back to sleep, malen'kiy. I’m just wiping off the blood.”

You sat up on your elbows, blinking sleepily at him. Your eyes were puffy, cheeks red, and yet, you were still absolutely stunning. “James, will you stay with me tonight? Please?”

And he might’ve said no, except for the fact that that you were you and that little please at the end wrung his heart. “Okay,” he said after a long moment, feeling a little breathless. “Just let me finish bandaging your feet, alright?”

“Okay,” you murmured, leaning back onto the pillows.

It only took him about a minute more to finish wrapping your feet in bandages, but it felt like an absolute eternity. “Do you want pajamas?” He asked, clearing his throat as took in the leotard and leggings you were wearing.

It seemed that your hatred for ballet tights was still just as present now as it was back in the Red Room.

He turned around as you changed, having tossed you a t-shirt, shorts, and underwear like you’d requested of him. He felt sweaty and disgusting as he listened to the soft sounds of your leggings and leotard hitting the floor, knowing that for just a moment, you were bare.

“You can turn around now,” you said, and when he turned, you were already under the comforter and pushing back the other side so that he could get in.

His heart hammered in his chest as he crawled in beside you, his mouth feeling like a desert as he pulled the comforter up. As soon as he was comfortable, you curled into his chest. It left him no choice but to wrap his arm around your waist. He closed his eyes contentedly as he felt your hot breath fan against his neck. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., lights off.”

The room went dark and his fingers splayed against your back, holding you steady. “Goodnight, James,” you whispered.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine

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stressa-bessa · 6 years

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Satin Slippers Part 1 - Allegro

okay so this is my first ever fan fic that i have posted! please let me know if you like it, if you want more, or if you have suggestions as to how i can improve!

Stark!Reader x High School!Peter Parker

Fluff-ish (I promise to get better at it!)

word count: 3178

You had always been such a daddy’s girl. Tony raised you all on his own, with some help from his dear mother, Maria. It was as if you were Tony’s shadow, constantly following him into the lab to work on parts for suits. If you were lucky, he’d let you help weld together the metals, after he put you in safety goggles, of course. You grew up listening to Black Sabbath, ACDC, Metallica and wearing converse while all the other little girls at school wore sparkly flats. To be honest, you didn’t care. Your dad always made you feel like the most important girl in the world, regardless if you had grease smeared across your cheek or sweaty hands from working in the shop.

As much as you cherished this time with your dad, you always looked forward to seeing your grandmother. She had fostered a love for the arts that was rooted as deep as your love for mechanics. She would take you to see the Nutcracker every year at The Metropolitan and enrolled you in piano lessons. This created an outlet of expression that you could share with her. This special bond between you and Maria, felt like the deepest, most sincere secret in the whole world, even though everyone knew about it.

The day she passed away, you had locked yourself in your room and listened to Chopin polonaises and waltzes until you fell asleep. Tony knew it was your way of coping with this impactful loss. He too felt comforted hearing the soft lull of Chopin fill the halls in the tower. Part of him wished that he had been able to create a bond with her the way she had with you.

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“Hey Y/N!” your freckled friend, Annabelle, called. She plopped her anagrammed gym bag beside yours on the bench in the changeroom.

“Your jumps are getting so good! I can’t believe how you’re able to leap up with such force!” she exclaims sitting down on the wooden bench to untie her point shoes.

“Well, I just wish I looked half as graceful as you, Annie.” You joke back, bending down to untie your satin slippers. Annabelle was a tall girl with a slender frame, who lived and breathed ballet, way more than you ever did.

“Oh, you will! Practice makes perfect, you know!” She beams as she puts her blush coloured point shoes into her quilted gym bag and zips up her fleece sweater. “Well, I will see you next class. Have a good night!” Annabelle chimes as tosses her bag over her shoulder and skips out of the room.

A large sigh escapes your mouth. Finally, you we’re able to go home and eat. As much as you loved dance, you were always starving after since you always had to rush from school to dance. A granola bar and chocolate milk on the subway barely cut it after a taxing class. You we’re all preparing for the spring recital where you were going to perform Chopin’s Les Sylphides. Quickly switching your baby pink point shoes for some dingy, beat up converse, you wiggled into some boyfriend jeans and marched out the door ready to powerwalk back to the tower.

---------------------------------------------------

As the elevator doors slowly opened, you could smell the sweet scent of dinner. You had no idea who could be cooking, but it didn’t matter, if there was food waiting for you, you were happy.

“Hey Y/N! You hungry?” Steve’s voice calls from the kitchen. ‘Oh, looks like Dad has company tonight’, you thought to yourself. You enjoyed having the Avengers over. The company made the tower less quiet at night, especially if dad was away for business or busy in the shop while you were cooped up doing homework.

“Hey Steve, I’m starvin’ Marvin!” You smile, resting your dance bag on the couch as you walk into the kitchen. You noticed Peter sitting at the high top doing some type of math homework that you were grateful not to have. You give him a small wave and a smile that causes the boy to blush and give an incredibly enthusiastic smile.

“He-hey Y/N!” the boy stutters. He was so incredibly cute when he was embarrassed.

Peter was in the majority of your classes, but you had decided to take functions rather than algebra and calculus, leaving you to your own devices when it came to studying. Besides Ned, you were the only other student at the school who knew he was Spider-Man. Peter while shy, was always so kind. He would always be the first to help you with your homework even though you knew your dad would be able to help. You didn’t mind though, you secretly enjoyed spending that alone time with Peter. It’s as if knowing he is Spider-Man has created an intimate bond between the two of you. Part of you felt that it was more than a bond…you liked Peter, a lot, but you knew that telling him could cause a lot of tension especially in the tower and it was a huge problem when it came to missions and your safety. At least that’s what you assume your dad would tell you, as that was the exact reason your mother left him.

“Fantastic! I’ve made homemade mac and cheese that will be out of the oven in 5 minutes.” Steve replies, closing the oven after checking the casserole. He placed the red and blue checkered mitts on the counter before leaning over and giving you a hug.

“How was your dance class?” He asks, you could see Peter perk up when Steve asked you the question. Peter had no idea that you danced, let alone what genre.

Taking out the bobby pins and unraveling your hair from the mandatory top knot, you smile. Steve always cared about you and your interests. He has come to ever show and seems to truly enjoy everything you have to say about your passions.

“Steve, it was fantastic! Not to brag, but we we’re practicing jumps to see who will have a small solo for our spring recital, and I have to say…I kicked major ass! I was able to get so much air with full leg extension! Our ballet mistress was incredibly impressed. The music was just so inspiring that I let my body feel it, and it worked!” You beamed telling Steve your incredible news. You could see the pride in Steve’s eyes and he grinned at you with the most admirable look in his eyes. Peter just stared at you, completely mesmerized by your story.

“Of course, you did! You’re a superstar, kiddo!” A voice chimes from the door frame. Unbeknownst to you, your dad had walked in behind you, mid-conversation, and overheard the entire thing.

Out of pure love, he gives you a tight bear hug and kisses your cheek.

“You know Tony, she looks more and more like your mother every day.” Steve points out, patting the hair on the top of your head.

“Well, there could be uglier people that I could resemble.” You joke, elbowing Steve as he puts the oven mitts back on.

Peter nearly choked on the water he was drinking when he heard what you said. He had no clue as to what Mr. Stark’s mother looked like, but if she looked anything like Y/N, she must have been simply beautiful.

“Parker! Help me set the table!” Tony asks, waving a handful of forks and knives at the boy, pulling him out of his trance.

“Oh-uh, yeah, sorry Mr. Stark!” He mumbles, scurrying off the bar stool to grab a stack of plates. He could feel his cheeks grow warm every time he looked at you. Your H/C hair cascading down the nape of your neck looked so effortlessly beautiful, paired with your vibrant smile.

“Okay, boys and girls! Bon appetit!” Tony chimes, placing the casserole dish filled with golden mac and cheese in the center of the table. The smell dragged the rest of the Avengers from their hiding spaces to the table.

Once dinner had settled, Bruce, Peter and your dad left to work in the shop, while Natasha and Steve read in the parlor. Thor was on clean up duty and was struggling to scrape the casserole dish clean. Hearing his constant grunting and cursing under his breath, you took over.

“You know Thor, sometimes it’s better to let it soak a little.” You giggle, watching the God get frustrated over some melted cheese.

You could see the look of confusion on his face as you took the scrub brush out of his hands. Clearly the God has never had to wash the dishes before.

“It’s when you leave it in the sink filled with warm and soapy water, it helps to get all the crunchy bits off.”

“Ah! Like a warm bath!” Thor chimes, sounding so proud of himself.

“Yes, Thor. Like a warm bath!” You chuckle to yourself, seeing Steve raise an eyebrow as a smirk grew across his face.

“Natasha, I’m going to go work on some homework. Could you help Thor with this in 20 minutes?” You beg, Nat sighs as she looks up from her book.

“Only if Rogers can be on back up if Thor starts breaking mugs again.” Her dark eyes glare at Thor as a small smile forms on her lips.

“Go study, Y/N, we’ve got this.” Steve laughs as he lowers his newspaper just enough to look over it at you.

---------------------------------------------------------

You walk down the hall to your bedroom, passing by walls of photos filled with memories. There was something so comforting about reaching your room after a long day and shutting the door. It was as if it signified the long day finally being over.

Collapsing onto your bed, you flip open your lap top and run a hand through your tangled hair. ‘Hmm, what would pair nicely with my reading on World War 2 and Propaganda Tactics?’ you think to yourself as you scroll through your iTunes library. You settle on Debussy’s Arabesque No.1. As the music starts to fill your room, you light a couple of candles and crack open your thick history textbook.

Meanwhile, in the lab….

Bruce and Tony were hard at work patching up Peter’s spider suit as it had been practically demolished after their last mission.

Sitting on a stool, Peter watched the two men hard at work. He was just there for input.

“So, uh, Mr. Stark? H-how long has Y/N been dancing?” Peter asks quietly, a blush raising to his cheeks at the mention of your name.

Tony’s head perks up from the workbench and looked right at Peter. To him, it felt as if Mr. Stark was peering into his soul.

“Since she was small…Why?” Tony asks hesitantly, giving the boy a strange look.

“No reason…” Peter’s voice drifts off as he stares at the ground, feeling stupid for bringing it up.

“You know kid, you could just ask her yourself if you have questions.” Tony mentions as he attempts to fix a circuit on Peter’s suit. “Bruce, could you bring that light a bit closer?”

“Peter, she won’t bite your head off. She’s a sweet girl, just go talk to her.” Bruce says calmly as he adjusts the angle that he is holding the light to help Tony.

“Uh—No, no it’s okay...” Peter peeps shyly. His head felt like it was running in circles. He had talked to you before, he talks to you all the time when it comes to school work or at lunch in the cafeteria. But for some reason this felt so different, like a pill that was impossible to swallow. Peter could feel his cheeks getting hot and his palms starting to sweat.

“Well, are you just going to sit there, Parker? Or are you going to finally go make a move on my daughter?” Tony says nonchalantly, sighing as he zaps the circuit panel in the chest piece of Peter’s suit.

“What!?” Peter blurts, shocked at Mr. Starks quick words. Had Peter been that obvious?

Tony puts his tools down on the workbench and crosses his arms, giving Peter what felt to be a deadly glare.

“Kid, you sit here almost every night like a dog with its tail between its legs. All you do is ask questions about her-“

“and your face turns bright red.” Bruce adds, a gentle smile on his face, “Just go talk to her.”

“I bet she’s in her room. It’s down the hall from the kitchen, just don’t touch any of the sculptures. Pepper will have a bird if she sees finger prints.” Tony smirks walking over to give Peter a pat on the back.

“Speaking of, where is Pepper?” Bruce asks as Peter walks slowly and nervously out of the lab.

“Dubai for work!” Tony’s voice rang as Peter walked to the elevator.

With a deep sigh and the feeling that his heart was about to explode, the elevator doors closed and Peter thought he might die.

----------------------------------------------------

After an hour or so passes by, you ask yourself what the point of reading these chapters are when you have a living war relic in your living room. Giving up, you peel off your sweaty dance clothes and opt to have a relaxing shower.

Scrubbing the stress of the day away, music fills the speakers in your ensuite bathroom. You hum along happily as you wash your hair and rub your achy shoulders.

Just as you step out of the bathroom you hear a soft knock at the door.

“One second!” You call, as you hurry to throw on some comfortable clothing. You decide on a pair of grey joggers, a black sports bra and one of your dad’s zip up Black Sabbath hoodies.

“Come in!” You chime as you flip your head upside down to wrap your wet hair in a towel. As you come up, you see a bashful Peter Parker standing in the door.

“oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were chang-showering, I-I can leave?” Peter panics as he lowers his gaze, his face slowly turning a bright shade of red.

“It’s okay, Pete. I’m all done anyway…what’s up?” You half smile, wrapping the sweater shut. You didn’t have the time to zip it up as you thought it might have been Natasha. She usually was the only person, other than Pepper, who would come into your room. You walk quickly to the edge of the bed and plop down. You pat the spot beside you to silently ask Peter to join you.

“Uhm, well your dad said you’d be in here and that I should ask you my questions instead of him…” Peter’s voice trails off, as his glace searches around the room, his heart pounding a mile a minute.

“Uhm…Yeah okay! What questions do you have? Just shoot!” You smile, trying to relieve the tension. There was something so charming about the way Peter got so uncomfortable. You knew it was because he was trying to be gentleman like and non-invasive, which was so incredibly endearing to you. You could feel a knot grow in your stomach being so close to the boy.

His warm brown eyes looked right at you and searched your face momentarily, you wondered what he could be looking at. You had never been able to look at him the closely before, his brown eyes had flecks of gold and orange in them.

Peter could see what Steve meant. He took a moment to look at the photo of Maria hung in the hallway on the way to your room. You shared the same eyes, nose and lips as her. The same charming and dazzling smile that could take your breath away. Steve had mentioned to him, one time, that you know you’re in love when someone can take your breath away from just one look and smile.

“Earth to Peter?” You laugh awkwardly as you wave a hand in front of his face, trying to get rid of the butterflies in your own stomach.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Y/N!” He says, embarrassed for day dreaming. “I was wondering what type of dance you do? And how long you’ve been dancing? You didn’t specify earlier but maybe I shouldn’t have been listening-”

“Well, I have done jazz, tap, modern, lyrical and folk, but my one true love is ballet.” You smile, interrupting the rambling boy, scooting closer to him on the bed. “And I’ve been dancing since I was three.” You add, grabbing Peter’s hand. Peter gave you a surprised look.

“Wow! You must be like, really good.” He smiles. You had never noticed the freckles that ran across the bridge of his nose until now.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m not nearly as serious as some people. But I enjoy it and it is something that I shared with my grandma. It will always be something that I cherish deeply…but it hasn’t been the same since she passed.” You sigh, looking down at your feet.

Peter could sense the sadness that slowly filled you. He presses up against you and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I understand that.” He inhales sharply. “Uncle Ben and I loved everything Star Wars. We could binge watch them time after time, and every morning he would greet me with a line from one of the movies. I still love everything Star Wars…but it’s not the same. It feels kind of empty. May does try to say a line to me in the mornings, but she usually butchers it.” He chuckles softly, remembering the time she said for him to “take the high ground” to school.

You look up to Peter, his sad, brown eyes now looking at his calloused hands that are bunched up in yours.

“That exactly the feeling.” You say as you sit up and look at Peter with tears in your eyes, feeling as if someone finally understands how you feel.

“Uh, how about we change the subject?” He half-smiles as he tucks a strand of hair back into your towel wrap. “When do you have your next show?” Peter asks, a full smile forming on his face.

“In a couple of weeks actually. We’re putting on Chopin’s Les Sylphides.” You bite your lip as you wipe the tears from your eyes.

“Uhm, can-would people be able to come see that?” Peter asks shyly, his big brown doe eyes looking right at you.

“Of course! Steve comes to every single one.” You smile at the thought of having Peter there. This idea makes your heart leap in your chest.

Peter’s face lights up at the thought of getting to see you perform. “Cool!” Peter says a little too enthusiastically, “So I could come see you?” he asks so innocently.

“I’d love it if you came, Peter.” You smile, grabbing his hand again. The boy looks right at you, his free hand coming up and touching your cheek. His soft fingers tracing the growing blush that fills your cheeks.

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stars-that-shine-at-night · 7 years

Text

If the Shoe Fits Jimin x Reader Ballet Au!

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~

“Unnie wake up!!” A shrill voice screamed in your ear.

“Ah! Who’s in the house?! Don’t worry Sehwa, Unnie will protect you!” You yelled, kicking off your blankets ready to fight. Instead of a home invader you were greeted by your little sister’s giggles. She was standing in her bed laughing at you. Her bed was right next yours, well technically under. Your bed frame was designed to have a pull out bed under it. So every night someone would pull out the bed, and Sehwa would sleep on it. It saved space, and there was no room for Sehwa, so the two of you shared the room. You looked to your right and there was Sehwa, on top of her mattress, her long (h/c) locks were in a mess and her Disney night gown was on her haphazardly. It seems like it shifted around while Sehwa was sleeping. You smiled and grabbed onto your sister, pulling her into your bed. You squeezed her into a tight loving hug, and lied back down on your bed.

“Nnnnoooo Unnie, let me go.” Sehwa whined, but she was laughing.

“Nnnnoooo you woke up Unnie, and now you have to pay for it.” You joked, imitating the same tone she made.

“Unnie get up, you’re going to make me late for school.” Sehwa said as she began to kick around in your arms. You immediately let her go the moment she started kicking.

“Ugh, that hurt.You’re getting stronger Sehwa, what is Unnie going to do when you’re stronger than her?” You said, sitting up with swipe some of Sehwa’s hair our of her face.

“Come on, let’s go or we’ll miss the bus Unnie.” Sehwa said, pulling your sleep heavy body out of bed.

“Okay, what shall we wear today?” You said walking over to your closet, and flinging the wooden doors open. One side was yours and the other side was Sehwa’s. Just by looking at the clothes inside you can tell which side was Sehwa’s and which side was yours. Her side was full of pink and purple clothing, with pale pink ballet dresses and slippers, her clothes were also much smaller than yours.

“I wanna wear pink Unnie!” Sehwa said jumping up and down.

“Pink again?” You teased her. “Okay, let’s see how your fairy sister will dress you today.” Sehwa would call you her “fairy sister” because you were like a fairy godmother, but her sister to her. You made all of her ballet slippers and dresses, you also promised her that you would make her first pair of pointe shoes, if she was still dancing, and old enough for them. Of course she was elated to hear about her pointe shoes, she wanted to be just like the older dancers she saw. You pulled out pink dress, with a white collar; the collar had beads that outlined the white fabric, it also had a cream colored decoration over her left chest. You also pulled out a pair of shoes and white tights for her to wear, and pale pink head band to keep her hair back.

“How about this?” You asked showing her the outfit. Sehwa jumped once more.

“It looks pretty I want to wear it.” Once you got her dressed, you two went down stairs for breakfast. Your mom was making breakfast and you went to go help her. Sometimes you tried your best to help her, if you were up the same time, but some days you were the first one up and out of the house. But today you could finally help her since you finished all the shoes for the Korean National Ballet.

You served up the food your mom made onto the plate, and placed it front of Sehwa to eat, and your dad’s and Jaewook’s plate followed behind shortly. All five of your family’s lunch boxes were lined up on the counter, and you started to pack them. First went in the rice, to the side some noodles, egg, and kimbap were placed in the plastic boxes. You also added in some meat and vegetables into the boxes. You sat down finally with the rest of your family to eat.

“So who’s going to walk Sehwa to the bus station today?“ Your dad asked. You raised your hand while your mouth was full, signaling that you will do it.

“Unnie will!” Sehwa exclaimed with her mouth full of rice.

“Yah, don’t talk with your mouthful Sehwa.“ Your mom scolded, reaching over to wipe Sehwa’s mouth.

After breakfast you walked with Sehwa hand in hand to the bus station. While you walked you saw a convenient store.

“Sehwa, do you want strawberry milk?” You asked, bending down to match Sehwa’s height. Your little sister bounced up and down with excitement, saying ‘yes’.

You walked into the store, picked up two bottles of the pink milk, and paid for it. You returned the Sehwa with the straw already in the bottles, and handed it to her. Sehwa took a sip of the sweet drink and smiled.

"Thank you Unnie.“ Sehwa said, as held she your hand, and walked to the bus stop. It was pretty surreal to walk with Sehwa to the bus, you were happy to do it, because your grandmother would walk with you when you were her age.

You two arrived at the bus stop earlier than bus. You stopped and crouched in front of Sehwa fixing the collar of her dress, and her head band.

"Make sure you be good today okay?” Sehwa nodded in response. “Don’t curse at the other kids, make sure you share, and remember if there are mean kids….” You trailed off.

"Make sure to pirouette away from the haters.“ Sehwa said, finishing your sentence.

"Yeah!” You said, raising your fist to fist bump Sehwa. Her little fist met yours and she did a sloppy pirouette in front of you. After she was done the bus slowly pulled up, and more kids were arriving.

"Okay, you gotta go now. Remember I love you.“ You said, hugging Sehwa close to you.

"I love you too Unnie.” Sehwa said before she headed to the bus, waving as she got on. You waved to her until the bus pulled out of your sight. Little did you know Park Jimin lived around the area Sehwa’s bus stop was at.

“Are you following me (l/n) (y/n)?” You whirled around to see Park Jimin behind you all sweaty in work out gear. He was wearing white compression tights, under a pair black shorts, and a bright red running top, that squeezed his broad, muscular shoulders.

“If anything it looks like you were following me here, coming up behind me and everything.” You shot back.

“Well I’m the one that lives around here.” Jimin said, retaliating. Oh, it was so on now.

“Yeah, like I would follow you with my little sister. I have better things to do. Like taking her to her bus stop.” You said pointing to the bus stop sign, and then you walked away from Jimin before he could fire another comeback. You didn’t really need to be going round and round with him right now, you needed to get to work.

When you got home, you redid your hair just in case it got messed up while you were running to get back in time. You picked up the bag you carried to work, and plugged your headphones in. You scanned your subway card, and walk to the platform that took you to Etre. You looked up from your phone and noticed the same man who was always on the same platform as you. He got on the same train, and got off the same stop as you, all at the same time. Usually anyone else would think he was stalking you, but that wasn’t true. He did get off at the same stop as Etre, but while you turned to head towards Delladova, he kept on walking down the street.

You never really observed him to know what he looks like, all you know is that he wore the same black baseball hat. Even if you did look at him for a long time, you didn’t know what he looked like or guess how old he was. He wore that hat lowly on his face, so you couldn’t see his eyes, and the shadow the bill of the hat casted, hid his face some more. Now that you were observing him some more, you can tell he wasn’t too old, definitely not his forty’s or thirty’s, maybe early twenty’s. He was slim, but athletic, he also had his ears pierced. With one small silver hoop in each ear. He was actually quit fashionable, wearing black ripped jeans, with a red and black long sleeved jersey sweatshirt hybrid, and he had a black jacket that was hooked on his arm, with that same hand in his jean pocket.

You and the man got off of the train, and you walked behind him through the city, to get to your destination. However, while you walking you noticed a black baseball cap flying through the wind and it landed right in front of you. The October winds plucked the hat from off of the man’s head, and carried it right to where you were. You stepped to the side where his hat was and picked it up, dusting whatever debris was on it. While you were looking down at his hat, you saw a red pair of sneakers enter you line of vision. You looked up and came face to face with the stranger. He wasn’t way taller than you, he was only a little bit taller than you, but none the less you two were at comfortable height difference. He had a pleasant face to look at, his jaw was sharp, he had a long face, and a long nose too. While his nose was long, it wasn’t very tall, but what was tall was his cheek bones, his cheek bones were also curved sharply under his skin. He had black silky hair that rested on his forehead, but they didn’t obstruct his vision, and it was flat because he obviously didn’t put any product in it, but it was still neat and brushed. He also had very full lips, even though his face was resting, he had a slight pout due to his puffy, pink bottom lip. You had to admit, he was very handsome.

“Excuse me, but thank you for picking up my hat.” He said, his voice was pretty deep, and you could tell it was fully developed because of how smooth it was.

“Oh yeah, you’re welcome, it was no big deal.” You said fumbling with his hat to where you were holding the bill, and the back closure of the hat was facing him. The man was charmed as you fiddled with his hat.

“Thank you again.” He said, smiling as he took the hat from you and put it back on his head. “I’m Chae Jaejung, you?” He asked. You were a bit taken back from his boldness and confidence to give you his name. You were mostly expecting that you two were going to go your separate ways now.

“(l/n) (y/n).” You said introducing yourself. Jaejung smiled again.

“That’s a nice name. A pretty girl matching her pretty name.” He said winking. Okay, now you were already over him…you two just met and now he was flirting with you. You just rolled your eyes, and started to walk away.

“Okay, wait wait.” Jaejung called after you while he pulled on your forearm. You turned to give him an annoyed look. “Okay I’m sorry if that made you mad. Again I apologize, that was a stupid thing for me to say.” He said apologizing. You smiled at his apology, most guys didn’t see the faults in their shameless flirting.

“So what you said was really stupid?”

“Totally.”

“And only stupids would say that?”

“….Yes?”

“So does that mean you are stupid? Because stupid is, what stupid does.” You said. Jaejung looked at you as you wore a smirk.

“Okay, I gotta admit I really walked into that one.” He said, rubbing the back of his head. “Can I make it up to you?” He asked.

“Mmm,” you tapped your free finger to your lip, “I think I’ll hold it to you as a favor.” You said. Jaejung let out a sigh relief.

“At least I can do that.” He said.

“You know what else you can do?” You asked.

“What?”

“Let go of my arm, because I can and will deck you in the face.” You said, and Jaejung let you go.

“Jeez, who bit you in the butt?” He said putting his hands up in surrender.

“To be honest a punk ass ballerino did actually.” You answered, and Jaejung erupted into a roar of laughter.

“Wait you are letting some ballet dancer push you around? Don’t get me wrong, ballet is fucking hard, but you seem like that kind of girl that doesn’t let anyone push her around.” Jaejung said. It was a little weird when he said that, it was like he actually knew what kind of person you were and you just introduced each other today.

“He’s just a spoiled Siegfried to be honest.” You sneered. Jaejung laughed at your response. He truly thought that you were funny, you held nothing back and didn’t lie.

“(Y/n) what are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” You turned to see your dad behind you. Crap, were you really talking for that long.

“Sorry, just go ahead of me. I promise I’l be there soon.” You answered. You turned back to Jaejung.

“Sorry, but I got to get to work.”

“Yeah, sure. Can I get your number?” He asked, smiling. “For making it up to you purposes of course.” He added, you returned a smile, and took his phone while you handed him yours. You quickly typed in your number, and returned his phone.

“By the way I work at that ballet shoe company, Delladova.” You said, pointing to Delladova’s general direction.

“Alright I see. I’m not far from there actually. If you keep going down to the end of the street Delladova is on, you’ll see a dance studio called ‘Billion Dreams Dance’ and that’s where I work, or dance I guess .” Jaejung said.

“Wow, you already have a job as a dancer. I mainly see kids who want to get a job as professional dancers. I visit Etre Royale Academy often to help the kids with their shoes. I talk to them more.” You said.

“So, I’ll catch you around?” Jaejung asked.

“Definitely.” You said, nodding.

You eventually caught up to your dad who was still walking.

“Who was that young man (y/n)?” Your dad asked as you two walked together.

“He’s just a boy I met today. I don’t know that much about him. He’s a dancer, but not a ballet dancer.” You answered.

“That’s good. I’m kind of glad that you are meeting other people (y/n). I sometimes worry that you are alone at Delladova. I mean you make shoes with a bunch people who are over ten years older than you. You need to meet people more your age.”

“Dad, you don’t need to worry about me being lonely. I’m fine.” You whined.

“So if he’s not a ballet dancer than does that mean he’s into modern dance?”

“I guess, I don’t really know.” You said. You and your dad were about to go into Delladova when he said.

“Well, at least you’re meeting boys too, I was getting worried about the family line a bit.” Your dad snickered. Your jaw dropped open.

“Ddddaaddd.” You moaned. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“I actually quite like that boy. He’s not a maker, he might make this family interesting.”

“Dad! I just met him, we are not getting married!” You yelled as you opened the door to Delladova

You got into Delladova and immediately started working on the orders that were stacked on your work table. Each ballerina wanted at least four pairs of pointe shoes each month and each ballerino wanted four pairs of ballet slippers.

You just finished one pair of pointe shoes when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. There two messages from two different people.

Jaejung: Yooo it’s me, Jaejung. Did you maybe want to grab lunch, when do have lunch?

+8 82-***-****: (y/n), this is Park Jimin. Chaerin gave me your number, so don’t freak out. I also want you to come at lunch so I can try on my first pair of shoes. If I don’t like them I’ll tell you the changes you need to make.

Sighing, you pulled up each conversation and typed in replies. You also reminded yourself to curse Chaerin for giving Jimin your phone number.

(Y/n): Sorry Jaejung…I’ve got an appointment at lunch :\ Maybe we can walk home together I guess, or get dinner whatever you want. Just tell me when you get off.

(L/n) (y/n): Yeah sure, I’ll come at lunch. Where do you want me to meet you?

Right after you sent those messages you quickly got replies.

Jaejung: Dinner sounds fine. How about fried chicken?

Spoiled Siegfried: Meet me at studio 17.

‘What?!’ You thought. Jimin wanted to meet you in one of the dance studios? You barely knew your way through Etre, you only knew how to get to the shoe room from the entrance and that’s all you needed.

(Y/n): Fried chicken sounds good to me. I’ll meet you outside Billion Dreams at 9:00.

You slipped your phone back in your pocket and continued to work on the pointe shoes. You shaped the toe boxes to all of your orders. It was paste, canvas, paste, canvas, and repeat. After you shaped all ten pairs of shoes you started to flip the shoes, exposing the pristine satin. After you flipped the shoe you would place it with it’s match in an orderly fashion, so you wouldn’t mix up the orders. You finally finished the twentieth individual shoe giving one last pull on the wooden pike. You took a deep breath form all of the physical exercise. ‘Shoe making should be an Olympic sport.’ You thought as you bagged the shoes in their plastic bags. Shoe making was extremely hard, most makers were never dancers so they had to learn what a shoe was like just by touching a pointe shoe or making their own after many trials and errors to find their style. Shoe making was an art too, that needed a skilled artist.

You decided to take a a break from making pointe shoes by sewing more of Jimin’s sippers. You grabbed a thick needle, and your thimble. ‘Man they must love Park Jimin if they let him use leather shoes.’ You thought as you sewed the thick leather together. Leather slippers were more expensive, but they lasted longer than canvas and satin.

You finished two pairs of shoes by the time it was before lunch time. You picked up the shoes and threw them in the large tote bag you carried shoes in for business, along with your sewing tools. You also decided to take whatever orders that were ready to go to Etre since you were going there today. You walked out of the door of Delladova and walk to Etre. It was about a five minute walk to the school, so it was no big deal.

Here you were standing in front of the gates of Etre. Last time you were here it was on the day you met Park Jimin. You’ve seen Jimin before when you were younger, but he was onstage, while you sat in the vast darkness that was the audience. You saw him at recitals and performances Chaerin was in. You will admit Jimin is an excellent dancer who is full of talent, he just pisses you off, sometimes…okay, most of the time.

You walked into Etre, and just like you predicted, you were lost….you had no idea where you were. You could text Chaerin, but it was lunch time, so she was eating. She barely ate enough as is, so you didn’t want to take this time away from her. You wandered around Etre hoping to find your way to studio seventeen, but with no avail.

"Dandelion what are you doing here?“ You turned to see Jungkook running up to you.

"It is a pleasure to see you again Mister Jeon.” You said bowing. You had to call all of your dancers ‘Mister’ and ‘Miss’ to keep up with the formality that was between dancer and maker. Jungkook crinkled his nose upon hearing ‘Mr. Jeon’.

"You don’t need to call me ‘Mister Jeon’. Just call me Jungkook.“ Jungkook said. "So what are you doing here?” Jungkook asked.

"Mister Park requested a shoe fitting today, and I do not know where studio seventeen is.“ You answered. Jungkook perked up at ‘studio seventeen’.

"Oh I know where studio seventeen is. Do you want me to show you?” Jungkook asked, smiling. His two front teeth stood out from he rest of his teeth, but it was definitely charming. You had to admit Jungkook was rather good looking for a fifteen year old. He did enter Etre a little bit later than your average first year, but he had this spark. You knew he would make it through the ranks of the ballet world really quickly and be an extraordinary dancer. You returned his smile and nodded your head up and down.

“Come on then, I’ll lead you there.” He said, and you took off walking side by side with him. Even though he was two years younger than you he was taller than you. Jungkook was very tall for his age, and he won’t stop growing there. His height was very desired in the ballet world, he would be a wonderful pas de deux partner.

You walked with Jungkook up one floor from the ground level, and he lead you through a long hallway. You could assume that they were the dance studios since by each room it would say ‘Dance Studio…” with a number next to it. You passed one, two, three, until you got all the way to seventeen.

“Here is the studio.” Jungkok obviously pointed out. You could here a classical melody being played. You instantly recognized the song as ‘Don Quixote’. You peeked into the room to see Jimin practicing the variation for the song, and he was absolutely amazing. His jete grand’s were strong and powerful that carried him away from the ground, and he would land quietly transitioning elegantly into another move. You could see his quads and hamstrings clench and relax under his tight black tights, as he lifted himself off from the ground again. His hand were always high and in the right position. The variation wasn’t very long, so it was over before you knew it. Jimin’s last move was a jump, and he would bring one of his legs up to form a beautiful angle while he spun. He landed in the perfect position where he would be facing his audience. He smoothly landed into a lunge, and threw his hands up in the air, hands positioned elegantly. He was breathing heavily, cheeks flushed pink from all of the blood that was rushing underneath. The song started to play again in what you can guess he had the radio on a loop. He stood up from his final pose and paused the radio as he took a sip from his water bottle. You knocked on the door that was opened. Jimin turned his head to see you standing at the threshold.

“Can I come in?” You asked politely. Jimin didn’t say anything, but he nodded ‘yes’. You entered into the studio with Jungkook watching your figure entering.

“Are you just going to stand there or something Mister Jeon? Don’t you have lunch or practice?” Jimin asked in a rude tone. Jungkook’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth slightly, as if he was going to answer, but words never came out.

“Well don’t you have at least something better to do?” Jimin sighed with annoyance. Jungkook looked down at his feet, he wasn’t too sure what to say, because Jimin was older and his superior. You, on the other hand, had something to say. You didn’t care about age and rank, you and Jimin were the same age.

“He probably does have practice, but like the nice person Mister Jeon here is the one who showed me where to find this room, unlike somebody who just assumed I know my way around this massive place.” You spat. You turned to Jungkook.

“Mister Jeon, I thank you for helping get here. You can leave whenever you want.” You said sweetly.

“You don’t need to defend him like some little kid. He’s got to learn how to fend for himself.” Jimin argued.

“Well, that doesn’t mean you belittle him like as if he’s a little kid, you’re claiming he’s not.” You shot back. You and Jimin were going back and forth like a married couple, and Jungkook was a scared little kid. You honestly wanted to get out of this place and not spend another waking minute with Jimin. Already he was making you mad, plus you were hungry. So you just clenched your teeth and let him have the last word.

“Let’s just do this shoe fitting okay?” You said, walking over to him. You sat down on the wooden floor and pulled out the neatly sewn slippers. You offered the slippers out to him and Jimin crouched to your level to take them from you. He observed the neatly crossed elastic that wasn’t twisted up, and the neat consistent stitches that held the whole shoe together. It was sort of unbelievable that a seventeen year old girl hand made these shoes, there was definitely a noticeable high level of care and craftsmanship that was put into the shoes. Jimin reached out to take the shoes from your hands, and in the process of him grabbing the shoes his fingers brushed the knuckles of your hands. Jimin felt a spark surge through him in those nano moments like something clicked in his rib cage, like cogs of a clock clicking together. He sat down to slip the shoes on after he took off his old ones. He flipped the slippers to see the lone dandelion seed was imprinted into the soft leather sole, that was the definite sign that these were made by your hands. You weren’t too sure how long Jimin had his present slippers, but they were already worn down, the elastic was pretty stretched, and the leather of his soles were rubbing off.

Jimin did a pas de couru into a grande allegro gracefully and landed quietly. You watched him dance a few more steps, to get use to the shoes.

“So how are they?” You asked. Jimin looked down and his feet, and raised his right foot on to its toes.

“They’re okay for the most part, but something is a little off.” He said.

“Just dance a couple more steps, I’ll watch closely to see if I spot something.”

“And how would you know something is wrong?” Jimin asked harshly.

“Hey, I don’t tell you how to dance ballet, so you don’t tel me how to preform my art got it?” Jimin just rolled his eyes. He did another pas de coru followed my a series of jete petites. You watched closely as he jumped and noticed what was off. It was the elastic. You made it too tight, the elastic fit Jimin’s foot while resting, but you forgot to put in some wiggle room for when he flexed his feet.

“I got it, I know what it is.” You said. Jimin stopped dancing and walked towards you. He sat down in front of and started to take off the shoes.

“Wait!” You hollered and pressed your hands on top of his to stop him from further taking his shoes off. “I need you to keep these on.” You said.

You pulled out your sewing tools, and roll of black elastic. You shifted your body so you were sitting ninety degrees away from the position Jimin was sitting. You sat where you two basically formed an uppercase T. You pulled your seam ripper and pulled out the seams that held the elastic straps to the leather of the slipper. once the straps were off, you pulled Jimin’s foot into your lap where his heel was resting on top of your thigh. You unwound some elastic from the spool and measured around Jimin’s foot.

“Now flex.” You ordered, and Jimin obeyed quietly. The elastic quietly creaked from over stretch, and that’s how you knew it was too tight. You pulled a little more elastic off from the spool and remeasure Jimin’s foot.

“Flex again, please.” And Jiminn flexed his toes. It was finally perfect and when Jimin rested his foot the elastic would still keep his foot in the slipper. You cut the piece of elastic off, and started sewing it on with black thread while the shoe was still on Jimin’s foot.

"Don’t stab me with that needle.” Jimin said. You looked up him with 'are you serious?’ face.

“If I really wanted to stab you, I would have already stabbed you…with a knife…in the throat.” You said with boredom and looked back to finish the stitches. Now that you have gotten a feel of the measurements and how long the elastic needed to be, you didn’t need Jimin’s foot as a model now.

“You can take off your other shoe now. I don’t need your foot anymore.” You said, and Jimin obediently took the shoe off and gave it to you. You ripped off the old elastic and cut off new elastic to sew on. You threaded new thread through your needle and tied the anchor knot. With the anchor knot tied you stuck the needle through the leather and elastic to stitch them together. You pulled the needle in and out of the shoe. Jimin watched you sew his shoe together.

Since it was quiet and you two weren’t fighting each other at the moment he had time to observe you closely. Your tightly pulled back hair had a shiny reflection in the sun light, and you didn’t have any baby hairs and stray aways they were all pressed to your scalp. He noticed that you always pushed the needle through with the top of your thimble, and actually just now he noticed that you had a Bunheads jelly tip on your sewing hand’s index finger. You would wrap the thread around your jelly tip covered index finger so you can pull the stitch tight without cutting up your finger. Jimin was amused at your creativity and he couldn’t but smile. He thought it was funny how resourceful you were. Jimin was in a position where he kept lowering his head so he could see your concentrated face, sewing. When you were finally done with the last stitch you looked up and met Jimin’s eyes. You’ve never really seen him up close so this was first for you. Every inch of the skin on his face was amazingly smooth, you just wanted to reach out and touch it, but at the same time you can see faint smile wrinkles indented into his skin. That meant he smiles from time to time, he’s not always as cold as he seems. His eyes were actually very big when his face was resting, they were so big it gave him a doe like appearance. Not only were his eyes big, but they were deep. His eyes weren’t black they were a velvety rich brown that could drown you if you stared too deep.

While you were observing Jimin, he was noticing things about you too. You’re eyes weren’t just one color, they were like a kaleidoscope of browns and greens, but there were flashes of faint blue, as if like there was lightning sticking in the orbs that were your eyes. He took in the curves of your cheeks, the surface of your skin, the sharp point of your cupid’s bow and the corners of your mouth. Your face was a map and Park Jimin was doing his best to remember it. He also noted the plumpness of your lips, they were really big to the point where it gave you a natural pout, they also had a natural color of dusty rose to them. Your cheekbones weren’t the sharpest, but up close he can trace the where the bones were with his eyes. Your staring contest would have gone on longer, but someone interrupted.

"Jiminie are you ready for practice?“ A sweet tone said. The moment you and Jimin heard Yoo Miju’s voice you two instantly pulled away from each other. Just like a dessert that was too sweet you wanted to throw up at the girl’s overly sweet tone. You looked the girl up and down, she was incredibly beautiful, tall, thin, pale, and had dark hair as dark as the night sky. You felt a little jealous about how beautiful she was. Jimin stood to his feet quickly and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, of course.” He said, you stood up also. The girl smiled and offered her hand out to you.

“I’m Yoo Miju, Jimin’s partner. It’s nice to meet you.” She said sweetly, but you could here the hostility in her facade of sugar.

“I’m Jimin’s maker. Just call me Dandelion.” You said coolly, and shook her hand. You wanted to not show much of a reaction, so Miju would know she doesn’t affect you. If you acted friendly that means she’s caught you in her lies, but if you were mad then that means she’s also got you, and there was no way you wanted to give her the luxury of knowing she got to you.

“Would you like to watch me and Jimin rehearse for ‘Sleeping Beauty’? We’re practicing the last dance where Sleeping Beauty is kissed and she finally wakes up.” Miju offered. You knew her game, she was obviously jealous, and she wanted to show off that Jimin was her’s. Miju was actually watching you and Jimin staring at each other from outside the studio. She could see a connection building and she could not have that.

“Sorry, but I can’t stay…I have other things to do.” You said, you honestly didn’t want to play this “stupid ass” game. Well you at least declared this game as “stupid ass” in you head. The moment you said you didn’t want to watch Jimin felt a dull pain in his stomach, as if you stabbed him in the abdomen with a spoon. He was a little disappointed, but didn’t know why. He quickly dismissed it and looked down at his feet. Miju noticed a small spark in Jimin’s eyes fade, why was he like this?

‘Whatever that was better not affect our performance.’ Miju thought, as she watched you pick up your stuff and leave the room.

“Oh yeah, don’t bother seeing my out Jimin. I remember my way, and I don’t trust you to show me how to get out if you couldn’t show m how to get here.” You said bitterly and left. Why were you so petty? You had no idea, you really had no reason. You shook it off and continued to walk out.

The moment you were out the dance room Miju and Jimin started practicing. In the middle of there was a Giselle lift. Miju would be on one side of the stage, and she would go from a pas de coru, and Jimin would lift her. A Giselle lift was pretty advanced, and if Jimin and Miju could get this lift perfectly, then scouts would definitely be impressed. Miju was on her side of the stage and Jimin was standing the position where he and Miju would meet. While Jimin was waiting for Miju, he looked out of the window that faced the courtyard of Etre, and saw your figure walking. While you were walking Chaerin and Hoseok saw you and ran up to you.

“(Y/n)!” Hoseok screamed as he ran and jumped onto your back. You caught him in a piggy back on your strong back, while stumbling forward.

“Oh my god, that scared the shit out of me!” You screamed. Hoseok threw his head back in laughter and squeezed you tighter, resting his chin on you shoulder.

“Hobi don’t jump on her back while she’s not ready. You might hurt her.” Chaerin said, while running up and reprimanded her partner.

“But (Y/n) can take it, she’s not weak.” Hoseok said, as you walked with him on your back.

“Hobi, get down.” Chaerin said yanking the boy off you.

“So (y/n) when are we going out for that pizza?” Chaerin asked, putting her arm around your right shoulder.

“Yeah (y/n) when are you taking us?” Hoseok said, joining in and putting his arm around your left shoulder.

“Who said you were coming?” Chaerin argued. “It’s supposed to be just me and (y/n).”

“Awww, that’s no fair!” Hobi whined and stamped his feet like a little kid. “(y/n) tell Chaerin that you’re taking the both of us out to pizza.”

“Woah woah, who said pizza was my treat?” You interrupted.

“Well you are the one with the job. We’re still trying to get ours.” Chearin said.

“Touche…”

Jimin felt annoyed to see Hoseok jump on you and act that close, like how dare you let him do that so easily. He’s never seen you and Hoseok together, so when were you two close?

“Jimin!” A shrill voice screamed, and Jimin was rushed back into reality and saw the blur of Miju’s body, and next thing he knew they were on the ground.

“Jimin what’s wrong with you today? It was like you were in another world.” Miju whined in pain. Jimin got up first and offered his hand out to Miju.

“Sorry. I don’t know what just happened. I’ll do better.” Jimin said, as he pulled Miju to her feet.

“I know it’s hard Jimin, and you’re probably under a lot stress. I am too, let’s work this out together okay?” Miju squeezed Jimin’s hand. Miju would never admit out loud that she loved Jimin, but she did. She first wasn’t when she chose Jimin as her partner, but as she danced with him her heart wavered.

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